The Enemy Within
by LedaeBug
Summary: Hundreds of years into the future and Earth is nothing but a series of ghost towns all caused by the doctor's hand! Can he right his own wrongs with the help of a new assistant?
1. Prologue

The Enemy Within

Prologue

"Please..." he begged as she stood on the first step. It was dark and the fireflies were out in force. Each of the alien lights buzzed against the blackening backdrop. Time was not on their side.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees and chilled her slightly. She shivered but stood her ground hands by her side, eyes staring straight at him. The water around the stones glanced her converse slightly and she could feel spots of it on her bare legs. Nature was urging her on.

"Please..." he said again, his voice barely a whisper and catching in his throat audibly as his frustration took over slightly. His hands raised in silent plea he brushed away his floppy hair and she choked as she saw watery tracks on his face in the beginnings of moonlight. "...I can do this." He said, his voice strong, and sure with barely a falter. He took her hands.

He was warm, he was always warm, the advantage of having four beats a second had often made her consider changing but she had always stuck by him as herself, as what she was. A mere moral compared to him. She choked again, tears welling in her eyes. She had promised herself not to cry and yet she found her human emotions too much to handle, cursing that she should ever have been given the gift to feel. The breeze pushed them again and the fireflies gathered around their joining hands. They tugged at her sky blue top, pulling it away from her tiny shorts.

"But you don't have to" she said, smiling despite the tears that poured from her eyes.

Before he could reply, she let her hands slip from his and she walked, almost frozen in time, across the stepping stones. Reaching the middle, she turned and gazed at him, no need for words, no need for her to say anything. He knew it was goodbye.


	2. Hero

Badgirlgonegood666 - thanks for following hope you enjoy it!

OhTex - thanks for the lovely comment! I'm not entirely sure where this is going yet but bear with me i'm sure i'll figure it out!

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Chapter 1 – Hero

The rumours started only after the first wave of violence had been committed.

It started at the coastal towns. Houses were raided, the pristine, colourful front doors kicked in with a force large enough to send splinters shattering to the gardens. People were dragged out of their houses their faces contorted in pain by men in mysterious armoured suits, no higher than that of a child and the way they used every bit of their inhuman strength to haul them down the stairs by their hair.

No one was spared.

Mothers and sons and daughters, tiny babies in cribs were all subjected to the silent force that seemed to creep across the country from the sea itself. For those lucky enough to be awaiting their fate, the news channels on the television told of a similar story everywhere in the world. No one was safe.

She first heard about the attacks a couple of weeks into them. She had stepped out of the shower, her normal routine, with her necklace draped around her damp neck and had pad footed naked to her room. She lived alone and the heat was becoming almost unbearable, to the point where the English and their complaining nature were proven right. Flicking on the television she marvelled for a second at the outstanding reception she was getting for once while she brushed her hair, knowing it would only form short curls despite her best efforts, and pulled on some underwear. Between marvelling at her weight loss in the mirror she stopped, and sharply turned to the television.

"...the size of children, march regimentally down the streets. Across the world the same story unfolds, the army seems to be hitting the coastal paths first, apparently trying to siphon off any escape route. They're bloody and vicious, having already destroyed several sections of the world's armies..."

A lump rose in her throat and her clothes dropped to the floor. Hurriedly she raced down the stairs, pressing her ear against the wood that separated her from underneath the stairs. A familiar hum came to her and she sighed happily. With her nerves somewhat settled she into the kitchen and pulled apart the tumble dryer. A seemingly innocent piece of equipment she had used it to store her most treasured possessions, having discovered one beauty of her newly found coastal life was that the sun was a brilliant dryer of clothes, and far cheaper. Ripping open her fingers as she clawed at the drum she pulled out a blue silk bag. The silk like material appeared to change colour, all sorts of blues swirled between her fingers and momentarily there came twinkling, as if she had trapped the stars within the fabric to shine at her touch. Hastily opening it she pulled out a necklace. Holding it in the palm of her hand she marvelled at the little key, hanging from its black shoelace. The blob of black chewing gum like substance on the "Yale" side would possibly buy her a few extra minutes, days if she was lucky. She pulled it over her head and let it settle, familiar and warm on her breast. Moving slowly now she peered out of her kitchen window. Nothing. She was safe for now.

Taking the bag with her she continued to walk slowly, calmly up the stairs and back into her bedroom. The television was still on, its familiar buzz seeming incredibly loud. Facing it she knew why. The news caster was gone. In her place, a dome headed solider sat, comfortably, peacefully, silently. Waiting, and watching. She turned the channel off and finished dressing, simply, comfortably in long jeans and a t-shirt, knowing she might need to run at any second. She pulled on her Converse trainers and felt under her bed. When she removed her hand she held in it twin guns. _That's not the way I do things..._ She doubted that it would do anything, the race that were attacking the earth were not new to her and she was sure her retaliation would do nothing except show them she wasn't going down with a fight. They respected that. She set about cleaning the two pistols, firing the unloaded triggers to test without making much noise and alerting them to her presence. She had been paranoid all of her life, and found that now it was finally paying off, because what the rest of the world didn't know was that they were hunting for someone, they were hunting her down.

A solitary tear slid down her cheek, caused by the images floating before her eyes like an end of life montage. His hands, smooth and safe, tracing the contours of her face, holding the small of her back and pulling her close into a warm, fiery kiss that she could replay on command. Angrily she wiped the memory away and waited. Her best vantage point, she had decided, was from the attic. From there she could keep an eye on the streets below and could hopefully make a hasty retreat to under the stairs with the maximum time allowed. She couldn't practice her runs. The key at her neck meant she had to stay still. She didn't even know if it would work, having never witnessed such things, having never had to do it all by herself, and certainly not against forces she knew were the best fighters in the whole universe.

She took to sleeping with both an eye and an ear open for any noise. With a hand on each of the pistols in case she had set up an elaborate maze of mirrors to help her see outside. It was during the third night that she heard them coming for her. The boots on the ground in 4/4 timing like some of her favourite songs. Within seconds she had sprung to her feet. Showtime.

"Sonta –ha, Sonta-ha..." the first time the attackers had spoken and she wondered, running hastily down the attic steps why she hadn't heard the splinters from the door yet. Her feet touched the floor at the same time her door was booted off its hinges, the general of the fleet stood at the back gabbling orders, she remained crouched on the landing, almost hidden from view. She had to time this perfectly and she knew it. The following seconds lasted a life time. With both pistols in her hand she pounce from her crouch and ran half down the wall, half sliding Tidus style down the greased banister. Guns brandished she fired at them, a low guttural scream released from her lips. It took her only two seconds to realise something was very wrong and, still using her rounds to distract and buy her time, her eyes widened. It had been a trap. She had been outwitted. Before they could grab her she threw her pistols at the creatures, they're backs still half turned towards her. Hitting two of them on the pressure point at the back of their necks she watched as they crumpled in front of the fleet, causing a blockage. She dived for the hidden piece of wood at the bottom of the stairs, she used it for a shield while slipping into the hole it had been hiding, into a familiar humming sound from under the stairs. Doing her best to block the oncoming slaughter she found herself standing in a familiarly large room. The blue cylinder in the middle of it cried to her anxiously and she hastily raced to the controls wondering exactly which combination of buttons and levers she was meant to pull and press, and cursing that there wasn't a manual around to consult nor the time to do so.

"It's no use" came a familiar voice and she turned suddenly terrified and braced against the control and a trusty hand in a bubbling glass container.

"Impossible" she whispered, staring ahead. Below her, by what appeared to be two doors she had slipped through stood a man, tall and thin in a brown trench coat and suit. His own converse squeaked a little and he slowly made his way up the metallic grid to the controls where she stood frozen. Snapping out of her daze she moved around the circular centre, in a stalemate of sorts.

"Nothing's impossible" he said with a cheeky toothy smile.

"Apparently not." She spat, "I never thought the Sontarans would ever align with someone who had so savagely stopped their battle plans before. And what for?" she laughed with fear and bemusement, "For me? Seriously? Because I am such a threat to the whole of humanity"

"Did I ever say that?" he said, his eyes still fixed on her. She felt herself blush under the intensity of his gaze. "I brought them to help me find you."

"You didn't need any help. You left me with these plans, these trinkets" she shouted now throwing the key to his feet. "Five years you've been gone and I haven't moved, and all this violence? This bloodshed, you expect me to believe that this is all part of your master plan? That you've somehow given up on taking care of us beloved humans? You're a joke"

Her anger had left her feeling weak, the adrenaline had stopped pumping and she wanted nothing more to catch up on sleep. Clutching the control desk to keep her upright she couldn't fend him off. He took her in his arms, the familiarly thin yet safe arms she had craved since he had left. Shushing her gently and cradling her head to his chest she heard the familiar four beats a second and closed her eyes, resting a palm against the alien sound. He mimicked her and she realised, in the same sort of slow motion clarity, just how wrong she had been the entire time.

"It hasn't been five years..." her eyes snapped open, _Oh no, oh no, no, no..._ she though, realising suddenly. "...it's been five thousand."

Suddenly he plunged a hand deep into her chest and clasped her heart.

"B...but..." she stammered, the pain not yet overcoming the shock of it all. "...you can't travel along your own timeline..." He smiled at her, his lips mere millimetres from her own.

"You're still thinking it's been only five years." He whispered, "You're looking at a five thousand nine hundred year old me and I've learnt so many new tricks." He kissed her then, the softness of those lips, the fire that welled inside her, the tears that scored her face, a final farewell before he tore her heart out and watched her crumple to the floor.

"You can keep the box" he laughed, tapping the sides of the police box as with her final breath she watched him leave.


	3. The State That I'm In

**WARNING** - this gets a bit gritty, so if you didn't notice the M level rating then i'd reconsider because its only going to get worse from here :)

Kris - Yes, it gets worse...

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Chapter Two – The State That I'm In

_Hello...?_

It was bitterly cold. Her eyes registered nothing but black. Thoughts crawled through her mind, was she dead? She assumed so and lay patiently in the dark waiting for the burning fires of hell or the bright white light of heaven to come and claim her. Her mind had slowed to a dull pace, the metaphorical cogs turning so slowly, her batteries having been ripped out so violently. She was using the last of her energy, the stuff that had been in her veins before the attack. It would end soon, she expected nothing less.

_...Can you hear me...?_

Her mind slowed even further, it hurt to think, to do anything except lie. The weight of her own body made her feel like she would fall right through the floor. She could feel gravity pulling on each of her frozen limbs, a sign that she was definitely fading. With no blood to warm her from the inside and no heart to pump the heat she found death to be a very uncomfortable experience.

_Hello..._

No activity. No activity and yet somehow she was still able to feel herself, existing in the little rooms inside her mind. Lying in the darkness with the cold eating at her skin and the numbing inevitability of her own death. In order to feel it all, in order to experience all the feelings of weight and gravity and the biting chill at her skin, the damp seeping into the denim the covered her legs, and the peculiar itch she had in the centre of her chest, she must be alive.

Alive.

She thought, hard. Sent energy out and into her toes. She could feel her toes, barely, but she could feel them. Legs, she had legs, she knew she had legs because there was something sharp and cold digging into the left one. She knew it was sharp and spiky because it hurt and pain meant feeling. Feeling meant life. She was alive. Trapped within the recesses of her mind she pushed against the darkness. Sending the tendrils of feelings out into the very ends of her body, the edges of her toes, the feeling of her socks, her shoes, the fleece and pointy objects she was lying on. Feeling the peculiar itch on her chest she fought harder to wake up, eager to know what it was.

Her eyes lashes fluttered. Stuck together by beads of ice, the twinkling water clung to her lashes, dying them black when it was disturbed and seeped into the hair. With unbearable force she screamed within her own mind, tearing her eyelids apart and opening her eyes to the world. It took several minutes of lying there, patiently, calmly waiting before the blackness began to subside. The darkness evaporated from the edges out, giving her the awkward feeling of drifting. Her vision swam while her pupils tried hard to adjust. She was having very little luck focusing on anything and realised almost subconsciously that her decorative glasses were still on her, crooked and probably broken. She reached out, hearing crackles and snaps when her right arm moved to remove them. A memory came back, a slither of a former life.  
"I hate going to the opticians...it ages me." She lay peacefully staring up at a ceiling she couldn't register, confused and beginning to freeze.

It took several more moments before the ceiling became apparent. The former golden box had been charred black, what she presumed to be soot remained stuck in place by the sheet of what looked like glass that covered it and glinted in one or two rays of light the pierced wherever she lay. With more crunching and snapping and popping she sat up and looked around her. The itch flew to the back of her mind, she beheld her surroundings. A lump rose in her throat and she found tears falling down her frozen face, settling and hardening there on her cheeks. She snapped them off without much thought to it all and stood up, not even wanting to brush the debris from her. With arms outstretch she climbed aboard the control and pressed her hands against the shattered and broken column that had supported the inside of the police box.

"Oh baby..." she whispered, "...What did he do to you?" her voice rose to a squeak her eyes falling on the raped machine. Looking around her she perched on the edge of the broken controls and wept. Ice was everywhere. The entire room looked like a scene from a nuclear winter book she had knew she had read. The curved architecture within the room had been relatively safe from whatever had happened and she could only wonder what that might have been, she brushed away the frost from her clothes and zipped up the fleecy coat she had been wearing. When her eyes began to hurt and her vision became akin to looking through patterned glass she took noticed of herself. Her fingers brushed her eyes and felt cool hard ice beneath them. She snapped it off, careful and thankful that it had not yet attached itself to the moist film of her eyes themselves. Looking at her hands she gasped a little and wondered why everything had taken on a shade of pale blue. It was then her mind snapped back to the uncontrollable itching at her chest.

Human instinct made her hand reach out, fingers extended ready to scratch but when her skin felt like marble under her touch and she found her limb falling into a great recess between her breasts she looked down and screamed.

With uncontrollable screaming she looked at the hand, suspended in the hole. Tattered pieces of flesh hung from around her simple blood stained t-shirt, tendrils of nerves and veins hung from between her fingers, cold and as dead like she should have been. Pulling her hand from out of her equally frozen inside she retched, falling, stumbling, running from the central column and heaving her guts up outside in the open air of what was once her kitchen.

With her senses restored and her stomach empty she realised, thankfully that he army had left. With memories of her destruction vivid in her mind she settled for knowing they had got what they had came for, however bizarre it was that she now moved and vomited, like she was truly alive. Stumbling from the under stairs compartment she supported herself against the wall and moved automatically. Into the living room she collapsed to her knees, pulling a clean vest from the rack and with shaking hands pulled out her craft box. She had taken only minor lessons on jewellery making and sewing, thinking it a useful way of finding Christmas presents. Rummaging through the drawers she found what she was looking for. She had ordered fishing line for its see through colouring, useful for when the beads were too big to complete a line or when the inevitable happened and it stretched with age. Finding her finest of needles she hurried back with industrial glue and scissors and barricaded herself into the broken sanctuary of the box under the stairs. Composing herself and ignoring the smell of vomit outside the door she took hundreds of attempts to thread the needle. Almost giving up hope she stopped and tried to compose herself when she achieved her goal, tying a little knot in the thread to avoid another hundred attempts. With no heart beat pounding in her ears and no adrenaline to numb the pain she pinched the skin together and pinned it with shards from the floor. The flesh tore into ragged holes when the glass like shards pierced her and willed herself not to cry the frozen tears, with a cry of pain she dragged the needle through her skin and looped it round. She felt her whole body shake when she pulled the first stitch tight, pulling the knot into place and tying it again just to be sure she wouldn't randomly burst open and spill her bloody, mucus filled body anywhere. Bracing herself against the door and the first step to the main deck she drove the needle through her again, sewing a dead live doll she took her time, remembering the previous attempts at making Mario Mushrooms and teddy bears, how the feeble, well spaced stitches had fallen apart. Over and over she stitched, pulling tight the thread without snapping it.

When each of the thirty five stitches had been completed and her work double and tripled knotted she pulled off the bloodied and broken t-shirt. Adelaide.

With scissors in her hands she trimmed herself up, the scars visible on her arms; she vowed never to harm herself again, she cut yards of raggedy skin from the newly fixed wound at her chest. Wrapping the bits of herself in the destroyed t-shirt she left it by the door, trying to not look at it again.

She gazed back up to her baby and she pulled on the vest top, she knelt on the commands, brushing away the frost and examining for anything broken. Without a vast knowledge of what the controls should have looked like she began piece by piece, the jigsaw puzzle of incredibly thin glass, stronger than anything produced on earth she fitted it back together. With unprecedented determination she took each tiny fragment, including those buried in her own legs and placed them together. She missed its gentle hum, the way it understood her and the solace it had brought when he had left her. In charge she had trekked down the stairs in Miffy pyjamas and with a blanket and crawled into the hiding space. Many nights she had sat in the icy bows, warm and happy and had read to it, her only company. The machine had hummed gently, never a change in sound or temperature. She hadn't even felt comfortable discovering the many rooms, it had to be together.

Trying to push all thoughts of him aside she continued her work. Time seemed to pass so strangely when she worked. In the dark she had no way of knowing whether it was light outside or whether the dark sky had come to herald the night. She didn't even feel tired, wondering whether the strange and icy tears were a part of that, whether her missing heart what had given her the ability to sleep. In reality it took another month for each individual shard to be connected but her determination paid off for once and she slid from the control deck, weary and now without cause, praying for life again.

Nothing.

With little left to live for she fell back and lay where she had first fallen, surrendering to the black.

"Hello?"

The words seemed familiar, child like in quality but she had heard them before the last time she visited the black. Ignoring them she crawled back into the recesses of her mind, praying that whatever life she had been granted disappeared with what little hope she had left. Her blue tooth like collection of stones hung at the gap in her collarbone, she could feel them moving, warm almost to her icy skin. A slight breeze brushed her matted hair from her face and she could almost feel the presence of someone standing over her.

"Can you hear me?"

Another remnant of the darkness. She wondered how long she could keep it up for, the talking to herself and the wondering at her surroundings deep within her head. How long would she stay alive, how long would she lie before one of the entities came to claim her. Suddenly, something brushed her lips. An unfamiliar warmth spread through her lips surrounding her mouth and bringing a phantom blush to her checks. Her arms went to encircle whatever ghost she was remember. Her stone cold hands touching someone warm. She felt skin beneath her fingertips and a tongue probing, exploring. It felt so much like him and yet it wasn't, she knew it wasn't it couldn't be. So who was it? Her hands moved from the shoulder, down and across the blades at the back, whoever it was they were bare, naked to her touch. She felt herself being dragged back from the dark corners of her mind and she opened her eyes wide pulling away in shock at herself. A smiling face looked down at her, brown hair falling to one side slightly, the eyes she gazed into were young and childlike with just a hint of passion and playfulness dancing in them. The smile grew as he spoke to her again.

"Hello."


	4. The Doctor's Theme

Chapter 3 – the Doctor's Theme

_She sat in the centre stepping stone, her arms crossed around her legs and her legs pulled up to her chest. Resting her chin in the gap between them she stared out at the waters that pooled and flowed around her. In her hand, clutched ever so tightly and digging into the whites of her palms, a knife. Her long brown hair escaped the clip she had rammed it in and flowed freely down her back, to rest at the bottom of the stone, long, and silent and waiting just like her. A few stray strands began to move forward with the breeze. It was cold, wintery almost, and she sat still at the secluded place she had found. Nettle marks tracked her legs under her jeans, she had waded through the over grown forest, having heard the sound of water rushing through her ears, calling her, calling her away from what was likely to be the most dramatic decision of her life. _

_Clutching the knife tighter she didn't even wince when it pieced her flesh sending deep red rivers running through the crinkles and creases of her hands and soaking into the knees of her deep black jeans. The pirate top she wore barely covered her shoulders and the forearms it showed were covered in deep and angry red scars. She stared ahead at the water, not moving, gazing directly into its deep and calming meanders. She could count the pebbles on the bottom of the bed it was so clear, and still she heard the calling, felt the tug at her heart that told her without a shadow of a doubt that she needed to be there. She had considered leaving several times, the idea flitting back and forth across her mind, the cold biting into her, she could be somewhere else, somewhere warm, ending the pain, ending it all. _

_Across the stones she sat on, safe on the bank, stood a man. The frost from the grass was warming beneath his feet, soaking into the canvas of his blue Converse trainers, and wetting the hems of his favourite suit trousers. With his hands in the pockets of his brown trench coat he watched her silently. She was shivering now, the pain almost visible on her face. He watched as she hunkered down, lowering herself into the tight grip she had on her knees. He walked forward, an almost unperceivable mist descended as he went. Almost walking on the water, now ravaging around the stone with the breeze he stood on the adjacent step to her, and knelt down. She remained staring straight ahead, the blade long lost into her hand she had clutched it so hard. The blood still poured freely and she was beginning to turn a nasty shade of pale blue and white. He reached out to touch her and found her unmoving still, so, slipping off his long trench coat he draped it round her shoulders and held it to her, lifting her to her lifeless feet. She refused to meet his eyes, just continued to stare into the water until suddenly she broke free of his embrace and snatched something from the miniscule depths, something that had been buried just under her stepping stone. He caught her, thinking that she had fallen, and led her silently back along the stones to the bank where he had been standing. With a strong but wiry protective arm around her he led her back to the blue box. _

_Her eyes drifted up to it. It was old, yet new looking, 'Police Box' was illuminated across it in large capital letters and she vaguely remembered seeing things about it in history books and conspiracy theories across the internet. Fumbling, she watched the man who kept a tight hold on her, his hand trying to fit the Yale key in the lock and stop her from collapsing. The bloody hand was beginning to sting now and she feared to look down in case the pain suddenly shot through her body. With the latch now opened she was ushered inside and felt her eyes widen in shock. The first thing she registered was how large the interior was, almost like an entire floor of a building than a tiny call box. The gold decor was like the inside of an Aero bar, large bubble like domes were in sequences down each of the various faces, and she registered the metal grate that led up to the circular pillar in the centre of the room. Her feet were barely audible on the grating and she wondered just where he was going to put her. With the strength of almost two people he hoisted her onto the control deck. Nestled between levels and buttons and hammers and springs and sprockets she watched him take her bloody palm, the pain now intensifying up her arm, and with a pair of tweezers, pull the blade from out of her skin. The pain was excruciating but she didn't move, just clutched her bounty from the river in her free hand. Without looking at his silent work she closed her eyes, trying to understand it all. She could feel the weight of her hair down her back, the cold dampness of it seeping into her pirate shirt. It made her shiver and at that second hands gripped her wrists, silently bidding her to stay still. She tried to nod and wasn't sure if she had moved, but his work continued, his hands leaving her momentarily. She concentrated again, above and on top of her hair she felt a heaviness, the coat he had given her was far older than anything she had felt before and she could smell the different years on it, dirty and dusty from times gone by, the slight smell of burning but not just from a raging fire, from the canons and guns and violence of another time that she hadn't witnessed. She could smell things about him on there too, the scent of him was calming, musky and different from any human man's smell she had been close enough to receive. It tasted like magic in her mouth and she could picture his tear stained face in her mind so clearly when she shuffled the tiniest bit. _

_Next, hands, hands that weren't her own, gripping her shoulders and shaking her slightly. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear him. It was so cold. So cold. She closed her eyes again and then..._

_Thud thud thud thud, thud thud thud thud...the pattern of four continued and a great heat resonated from her chest. It spread throughout her entire body, like a spark of a flame setting a room alight. She opened her eyes and saw a blue suit and plain shirt, her head was resting on a silk tie and her ear was against two rhythmic hearts beating in four four time. His suit was drenched, the mark from where she had thawed out was clear against the blue and she felt the blush attempt to redden her cheeks, the embarrassment at being saved was overwhelming. _

"_You're going to catch your death..." he muttered almost to himself, he didn't know if she could hear him. Sighing gently he held her close, gave her the lapels of his trench coat to hold in one good, one bandaged hand. She followed, her jeans and beat up Converse trainers squelching and squeaking as she was ushered through one of the faces of the central room. She was faced with a long corridor looking similar to the room she had already been in. With her feet on metal grating she following wondering what was behind the apparent walls and why the mystery was happening. He gazed back at her more times than was necessary and ushered her into what appeared to be an empty room. The floor, strange and porcelain like, dipped into a bowl shape in front of her. Stopping now, he turned to face her. His face seemed to strange, she thought and watched as his eye gazed at her with concern. He tried to open her palms to get to let go of the coat. The prize in her hands fell to the floor with a tiny ping. She saw his eyes drift to it but one look at his concerned gaze was enough to make her break the contact. She backed away slightly but stronger hands that her pulled her back and slowly unhooked the wet t-shirt. She mumbled something, a noise of distress but he continued, neither bothered by nudity, not understanding the self conscious Victorian conventions of concealing the naked form, and realising that she was in not state to do anything herself._

_Her pirate top fell to the floor with a dull thud and she began to shiver. Kneeling like her knight in shining armour he undid the laces to her battered Converse. She held his shoulders, as he lifted her food and took her off balance to wrench the soaked and tight canvas from her feet. He even peeled off her tiny socks and threw them onto the pile of clothes. Her hands rested on his chest feeling his hearts beating while he loosened her belt and let her trousers, two sizes too large, fall to the floor. Standing there in her underwear she began to shiver violently and so he removed the trench coat and led her down into the dip of the floor. Automatically thousands of tiny bubbles began to fill the dip, soaking his own shoes in the process. They were warm as they touched her skin and fell through his clothes and before she knew it warm water pooled around her forming a cross between a giant bath and heated swimming pool. She started to tread water, the dull throbbing of her hand soothed by the heat and the scents of the bubbles for she realised that each smelt like something sweet and comforting: strawberry, lavender, cinnamon. She watched as he floated with her, his eyes never leaving her despite how soaked he was getting._

_She slipped under the water and allowed herself to listen to the song the machine hummed under the water. She opened her eyes, finding that it didn't sting to do so and watched the blur of colours that swirled mystically around her. Suddenly hands grabbed her and pulled her above the water, she looked at his concerned face as bubbles rested on his dampening hair and a smile formed across her lips. _

"_You have..." she began as she wiped the bubbles off his hair. It suddenly seemed to strange to her that he should be there, in his suit and shoes ruining them for her benefit. He smiled at her, still worried for her, scared she would try to end it all again. He watched as she disappeared under the water, knowing of its power, the colours and smells and light. To him the bubbles smelt of home, the home he had lost before the great war and destruction. It soothed him. He felt tugging at his feet, and unable to see through the foamy mass around him stifled a small laugh when his socks bobbed on the surface of the water and his shoes rose from the deep, diving like a dolphin to the dry side. She surfaced, gasping for air, her long hair covering her face slightly and flowing around her in the water. He took her by the bandaged wrist and pulled her closer before gently wiping the hair out of her eyes and gazing at her in a new light. She was animated as she smiled, still trying to gain her breath. Colour had returned to her skin and despite making the track marks across her body red and angry she glowed slightly. He watched the blush rise to her cheeks as she slipped his jacket from off his shoulders and began to loosen his tie. _

_She felt nothing about her body. In the pool with him she felt beautiful, light, her shoulders were free of the baggage she had been carrying for some time now and she realised it was foolish for her to be the only one near naked, particularly when he was ruining a good suit. She pulled the silk tie from around his neck and let it float away into the mass of bubbles with the jacket. He understood the hint, and began to undo the buttons on his shirt as she loosened his belt and watched him kick his clothes away. He didn't stop though, and soon slipped his boxers off, allowing the water to embrace the whole of him. She followed suit and unclipped her bra, slipping it off along with her panties. They swam together for some time after that. The pool seemed never ending, much larger than the dip she had witnessed when she had come in shivering. She watched him as they swam and twisted together under the water. The concern upon his face seemed to disappear and she realised that he had the same relaxed feeling upon his shoulders, that he too had been carrying baggage for sometime now. She surfaced, laughing at beneath her he ticked her feet. Suddenly his hands gripped her ankles and she barely had time to breathe before she was dragged under the water. Fear gripped her, sending her heart pounding and adrenaline soar through her veins. She saw the colours around her beat in time with her heart and as her lungs burnt to catch air she slipped beneath him, into his warm embrace and felt his lips on hers as they kissed and he gave her air. _

_Surfacing together she lay atop the water as if she was in bed and watched him beside her. The water began to dissipate, returning to wherever it had come from until she stood, naked and warm in the dip with him mere feet away. From a trunk she had failed to notice in the corner of the room he retrieved a towelette gown, and handed it to her. Wrapping herself up in the fluffy white material she followed him feeling small beside him as he strode naked, picking up her trinket and clothes as he entered the corridor. _

_Her heart pounded in her ears. She could feel herself becoming anxious as he held her trinket in his hands, the pull she felt from it, the calling it gave her scared her and she quickened her step as they entered another room. Her eyes widened as she took in the rails and rails of clothes that surrounded her, hundreds of items from different periods surrounded her. _

"_You'll be wanting 21__st__..." he mused to himself as he walked along the different rails, counting until he reached a section marked '21'. She wondered how far the rooms went on for, how much he could squeeze into the tiny police box. She looked at the rail as he pulled it out to reveal a wider expanse of clothes. Every style she could possibly want in every possible size were available from the floor to the ceiling. She gazed at him as he wandered out of the door. _

"_I'll leave you to get dressed". _

_The pain in her chest became worse as he left and she decided to dress quickly. Warm and dry from her time in the pool she selected, for once, a pair of matching underwear and slipped the black material on quickly. She hurriedly pulled out a pair of flared jeans, deep blue, and tugged them over her slender frame, fastening them with a neon pink belt – the first to hand. She marvelled at the array of tops but selected a plain purple spaghetti strapped piece and shoved a pair of trainer socks in her pocket as she grabbed the first pair of size six Converse that came to hand. _

_He marvelled over the blue stones in his hand. When she had dropped them in the pool they had splintered into several tooth like shards. He pondered over the strange calling they gave him and wondered what was inside. In his open shirt and bare feet he drilled the tiniest of holes through each of the segments and reached for the tweezers, still coated in her blood, to prize them apart. He glanced up quickly. She stood at the opening of the corridor, out of breath but trying to look natural. She had chosen simple clothes he though, and wondered about her bare feet and ragged exterior as she moved towards him gazing at the stones in front of him. _

"_They're mine..." she said quietly, unsure of whether to stand up to the stranger. _

"_I know..." he began in poor defence while fumbling to his left, out of her sight. "I was making sure you'd never lose them again." And fortunately for himself he held in his left hand a thread of silver, woven deeply and intricately. A remnant of from some far gone planet somewhere in space and time. He thread the beads with the chain, attaching a few of the smaller shards together as a bunch. She had walked slowly towards him and felt the heat radiate from him as he stepped closer to her and fastened them round her neck. As she sat on the floor putting on her socks and marvelling at her new blue Converse she looked at him, buttoning his shirt. The world was once again on his shoulders. Ready and standing now she hugged him from behind. Hugged him with the feeling of someone who also has the world on their shoulders. He smiled, oddly at peace and relaxed in her arms. She wasn't the prettiest he had ever taken with him, and she certainly wasn't the strongest but he realised as he turned to her, that the feeling within his two hearts but be what love at first sight feels like. _

"_So..." he began, "...long story short I'm a time lord, i travel through time, this is my time machine, the tardis, where do you want to go?"_


End file.
